The Delusive Pursuit

Darkness.

His silent footsteps were all that could be heard in the dead of night. The wind whispered in his ears and welcomed him home. Clutching only the locket he had once gifted to his love, the broken architect was surrounded now by the remains of his city and his heart.

One night had changed it all. Two decades later, here he was once more walking the same streets where he had grown up, where he had found purpose and love and laughter, where he had envisioned a family and an entire life for himself and her. Those crumpled dreams had since turned into pain and sorrow and anger and regret. His mother's house which once stood by the train tracks had been pillaged long ago and the tracks had been decimated for parts and fuel. The beaten path which led him from there to the city was now ashen and sullied. The affluent suburbs were the first to devolve into chaos and were left a skeletal prey to crime and greed. Creeping vines guided him to the once bustling bazaar. But all that stood there were tarped homes, sheltering vacant souls who had nothing left. Shivering, he backed away and hastened to find the street where he had built her their home. And there, a glimmer of light.

Suddenly, he saw her! She stood as she used to, with a smile that shone through his sorrows and he ran. Ran with purpose, by choice, and as he moved to touch her, he failed. The psychedelics had kicked in.

Years ago, he had left his home for a pilgrimage. Little did he know that trip would save his life but trap his soul. The night before he was to return, his country was bombed, never to rebuild itself again. He had lost everything, everyone. There was no way for him to return and he was evacuated to safety. The guilt and regret seemed to keep him awake and led his lifeless self to a land where he would imagine the ruins and the remains. There seemed to be a nightly attack on his conscience but unlike his city, he didn’t break just once. Lost and alone, he found peace in a tiny bottle which opened him up to nostalgia and temporarily transfigured his guilt into reminiscence. His salvation – memories of her – were locked away in his mind, locked until he popped the key into his mouth.

But tonight was different. Tonight he was back. With one look at the heart-shaped locket, the pills transported him back to his life with her. Back in his city, he could finally follow her. As she skipped along the distorted streets, his feet – gullible like his heart – moved to her pace until his eyes rested upon their home. With the tall archway, the mosaiced door, the stained windows, it stood tall and strong and alive. The grass was green and the birds were singing. Her greenhouse peaked at him from behind. She frolicked up the stairs and there, beckoned for him to join her. Happy tears streamed down his face for he was home once more.

"Don't just stand there, silly," she greeted, "Your son is waiting." She opened the door as she said those words and there stood his unborn boy. His family, alive again, was calling for his company. He wiped his tears and charged to scoop them both up in his arms! He was so close to completing his journey to them. One step, another step, final step …

But alas! The key’s effect faded and the door slammed shut.